Page 78 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“Aye, really,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Why should I talk to ye, either of ye, after this!” Rory yelled, hate pulsating out of his eyes. Seeing the fury in them, Niven felt wretched. His uncle had every right to be upset.

Still, he had to give it a go. “I ken,” said Niven, casting his eyes guiltily to the ground. He wasn’t looking, so he didn’t see the footsteps crunching quietly towards him.

But he heard them. And then, suddenly, her voice was right behind him.

“Sir, I must apologize,” Deva said.

Her flowing red hair and clear gaze momentarily unnerved him. He had not reckoned on Deva following Rory as well.

“Deva, just leave it,” he murmured, trying to shoo her away. He didn’t know why, but having her there would only complicate things. He needed to speak to his uncle, one on one.

But Deva was having none of it.

“Nae,” she said, coming closer. He could feel her breathing behind him, making him queasy and anxious all over again. “Nae, Niven, we’re in this together. It’s only right I should explain…”

But in front of them, Rory glared chillingly. “Enough,” he said, waving them away. He made to get to his horse – something Niven hadn’t remember seeing. Sure enough, a servant was waiting in the sidelines, bringing the laird’s horse up and helping him be seated.

“Enough,” said Rory, his bright eyes incandescent with rage. “I’ve heard enough already. I’ll leave ye to yer lover’s tiff!”

And with that, he mounted his large white stallion, Thunderbolt, and rode away.

Niven and Deva were left standing, in full view of the household cavalry. Niven felt his impatience growing with every second they glared.

“Havenae ye anything better to do than gawp?” he raged at them.

Instantly, they dispersed back into the castle keep. Then, Niven looked at Deva. For a moment, he felt his heart beating hard. She looked so bereft.

Niven’s heart burned with rage at the way she had been treated. And inside, he vowed to set it right the first chance he got. But not like this, with people gawping.

“Deva,” he commanded sharply, “Go back to the castle. Leave this to me…”

Niven had already taken off in search of his own fierce black stallion. He raced over to the stables, just a short walk away from the front of the keep.

Within minutes he had mounted the waiting stallion, tended to silently by a stable hand, who thankfully knew better than to stare. The slight blond lad made himself scarce as Niven leaped on top of Odin.

“Come on, boy,” he said to the snarling black horse. The permanently restless stallion needed no other encouragement. Within a second, it was kicking back from the stables and pursuing Uncle Rory at a quickening pace.

With the wind in his hair, eyes, and ears, it didn’t leave room for Niven to turn around. He pressed his face forwards into the wind. The winter in the Highlands had dredged up some of its best icy weather to throw at him, but Niven shrugged it off.

Tightening his grip on the reigns, Niven dug his fingers in and urged the crazy horse on. If it was one thing that Odin could do, it was run.

And he did. Speeding through the snow-laden hillside, Niven quickly narrowed the gap.

“Rory,” he called hoarsely. Unwillingly, his uncle turned around.

“I said leave me be,” he replied tersely. “Both of ye!”

Niven turned around to see Deva behind him, her long red locks blowing furiously in the raging storm. She must have been right behind him all the way. Despite herself, she grinned briefly on seeing Niven’s surprised face.

“Deva,” Niven admonished her gently. He was about to tell her to leave when she stopped him dead.

“Nae, I will nae go,” she said, eyeing both him and his uncle.

Resigning himself, Rory brought his horse to a stop and stood listening. Niven looked around them. They were completely isolated, all alone, on a remote snowy hill.